Just a Little Change
by TheHeartOfTheDetective
Summary: Mr Gold is the owner of an antique shop in Storybrooke, which he runs alongside his young son, Baelfire. Belle is his new intern. Gold has to find a way to deal with the young girl helping him in his shop, but when Baelfire becomes ill and Belle does everything in her power to help him, Gold can't help becoming fond of her. / / Rumbelle / /
1. I

**Based on prompt by the lovely LoveFillsOurHearts.**

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><p>Robert Gold stood at the counter, hands folder behind his back as he waited, his son, Baelfire, stood in front of the counter, his back against it as he drummed his fingers on his literature book. Gold let out a sigh, looking up at the clock above the door. Six minutes until 7:30. Six minutes until she should arrive.<p>

Baelfire zipped open his dark green backpack, which sat beside him, slipping the textbook in. "You will be nice to her, won't you?" he said, zipping the backpack shut.

It took a moment for Gold to respond. "I didn't ask for her."

"And I never asked for Mother to leave," Baelfire said, "You can't control other people, father."

"I shouldn't have allowed her to intern here."

"Where else would she go?" Baelfire stood, turning to face his father.

Gold had a frown etched into his expression as he waved a hand around, frustrated. "I don't know! Somewhere else? I'm sure there are antique shops in other towns."

"It is just an internship," Baelfire said, "She won't be here forever."

"I don't want her here for even a minute, Baelfire," the man said, "I don't need any help in the shop."

"Yes," the boy said, "you _do_. Without Mother around, you need help."

"I've got you."

"Well, I can't always be around, can I?" Baelfire sighed. "I have school and homework. As much as I would love to help you in the shop, I can't always do so."

Gold opened his mouth in response, but shut it as he spotted the mayor, Regina, walking across the street towards his shop with her son, Henry, and another young woman. "Well," he said, "here we go."

Regina opened the door for the young woman. She walked through, Henry and Regina following behind her.

"Good morning, Madame Mayor. Good morning, Henry," Baelfire said, giving the two a smile.

"Good morning, Bae!" Henry said, smiling at him.

"Good morning," said the mayor. She gestured towards the young woman. "This is your new intern, Mr Gold."

She held a hand out over the counter. "My name is Belle French. Pleasure to meet you, Mr Gold."

Gold accepted her hand politely, but expression remained cold. "And you, Ms French." He drew his hand back, letting it drop to his side. Belle's smile faltered slightly, but she still managed to remain cheerful.

Regina looked to Baelfire. "And this, Belle, is Mr Gold's son."

Baelfire held a hand out to the woman, smiling. "Balefire. Nice to meet you."

"And you," Belle said, smiling back at him.

"Now then," Regina said, "Henry and I have just finished giving Belle the tour. Would you like me to take Baelfire to school?"

"If it isn't a bother, Madame Mayor," Gold said.

Regina smiled. "Not at all. We best be on our way, though. Are you ready, Bae?" Baelfire nodded, picking up his backpack and slipping his arms through the straps.

"Come on, Baelfire." Henry said, already making his way to the door.

"Coming!" Baelfire hurried to catch up with him.

Regina turned to Belle. "If you need anything or have any questions, come and find me."

"Thank you, Madame Mayor."

"Anytime." Regina turned, heading towards the door. Baelfire and Henry stood outside and waited for her to catch up.

Belle turned to Gold, watching as if she were waiting for commands. He stared he. Her wavy, dark brown hair hung over her shoulders, stopping just above her breasts. She wore a navy blue sweater and white coloured jeans with brown, short-heeled boots. Blue eyes blinked at him, lined with light black eyeliner, making the blue stand out.

What could he do to keep her out of his way?

"It's truly and honour to be working with you, Mr Gold," Belle said, "I've been looking forward to this for weeks!"

"Quite right," Gold said.

"What do you want me to start off doing?" Belle asked.

"Mop the floors."

Belle's smile faltered again, her eyebrows furrowing. "I'm sorry?"

"The shop opens in two hours," Gold said, "and we need the shop to be clean…" He wandered into the back room and came out with a mob and a bucket. "I've always maintained a clean shop, and now I have you to help keep it that way. Get to work, then."

Belle gave him a smile, taking the mop and bucket, which was empty, from him. "Yes, Mr Gold. Where can I get the water for the bucket?"

"Bathroom." He pointed to the door behind him. "Go through there, take a left, go down that hall; it's the second door on the left."

"Alright then." She headed that way, and Gold rolled his eyes at her constant cheerful attitude.

Belle would mop out a few feet of space several times before wiping it down with a clean towel that she found in the back. She wanted to be sure that the room was spotless and that it wasn't a slipping hazard. The dark wood shined in the dim ceiling lights, telling Belle that she was doing a good job. Mr Gold had not said a word to her since she began cleaning, which was better on her part. She finished cleaning the main room in thirty minutes, drying it over again with another towel and setting out a caution sign.

"Well then," Belle said after putting the mob, bucket, and towels away, "what else can I do to help?"

Gold thought. "There are many antiques in this shop that could use some dusting. There should be a duster in the back. Get to it."

She hurried to the back, finding the duster and coming back to the main room. She started dusting near the door. The first thing she always did when walking into a store was look from side to side; she assumed that others did the same.

Whoever usually dusted at Mr Gold: Pawnbroker and Antiques Dealer seemed to forget about the front of the shop. There was a scabbard holding some ancient sword on a shelf. It was sitting in a field of dust, so was the stack of books that looked as if they held spells and ingredients for potions – likely from the Salem Witch Trials. It amazed Belle that the books ended up in a small town like Storybrooke were still in tact and not completely destroyed. Storybrooke was, of course, in Massachusetts, but it was still surprising. They were likely fragile, so she was careful as she dusted the field around them, lightly brushing the grey fluff away.

After finishing, Belle was instructed to stay at the register with Gold. Despite having a cold welcome, she was still excited about interning at Mr Gold's shop.

Gold was eying her, a stone cold expression frozen on his face. "Why do you keep doing that?" He asked.

Belle looked to him. "Sorry. Doing what?"

Gold looked away. "That thing you keep doing."

Her brows furrowed. "I don't understand."

"You keep doing a thing."

"What sort of thing?"

"A thing with your face."

"With my face?"

"Yes, with your face."

Belle let out a laugh. "You mean smiling?"

He turned his head towards her just slightly, then back again. "Yeah, that."

"Because I'm excited," Belle said, her smile brightening with each syllable.

"Most people don't get excited about working," Gold said.

"That's why they say to work with what you love," said Belle, "I love antiques, Mr Gold. I always have. Antiques and books are, you could say, the two loves of my life. My thoughts swirl around them constantly."

"You want to work with antiques?" Gold's voice was flat, his expression cold. "You don't hear that too often."

"I decided when I was younger that I would be either a curator or a bookseller. I'm trying for curator first."

"And if that fails," Gold said slowly, "you'll … sell books."

Belle shrugged. "I love books."

"Obviously."

"And what about you?"

Gold raised his eyebrows, looking over to her. "Sorry?"

"Did you want to be an antiques dealer when you were younger?"

"No." His voice grew colder. His childhood, as Belle could tell, was a touchy subject.

Belle took the hint and changed the subject. "What about Baelfire?"

"You ask a _lot_ of questions."

"Just passing the time."

"I don't know," Gold said. "He hasn't talked to me much about such things."

"Why not?" Belle asked, smile fading. "Is he upset or something?"

Gold didn't answer. He stared straight ahead, eyes fixed on the doors. Belle opened her mouth to apologized for bringing it up, but was interrupted by the sound of bells ringing. She turned her head towards the door as a blonde woman walked in.

"Ah, Ms Swan," Gold said, "how can I help you?"

"I'm not here for anything in particular," the woman said, "I just wanted to know if you wanted me to walk Baelfire home today."

"If you don't mind," he said.

"Not at all," she said, "My car's in the shop anyways. I was going to walk Henry home. It's no trouble to walk Baelfire as well." She turned her head towards Belle, and smiled. "Oh, hello. Are you new?"

"Yes," Belle said, holding a hand out towards her, "My name is Belle. Belle French."

The woman took her hand. "Nice to meet you, Belle. My name is Emma Swan."

"Lovely to meet you!"

"So, what are you doing here? I've not seen you before."

Belle was all smiles. "Today's my first day. I'm interning with Mr Gold."

"Well I hope you have a good time," Emma said, "Have you met Baelfire?"

"I did this morning. And Henry as well!"

"Oh, you met my son too? Regina must have showed you around this morning."

"She did," Belle said, "and I thought that _she_ was Henry's mother."

"She is," Emma said, her stance awkward, "Well, adoptive mother. I'm his birthmother. I kind of just met him again about a year ago."

"Oh."

"Anyways," Emma continued, taking a step back and gesturing towards the door, "I better run. I've got a few errands to run before I pick the boys up."

After Emma left, Belle and Gold stood at the counter for a while. Very few people visited the shop, but the ones who did were greeted bye Belle, who welcomed them with a bright smile. Belle even met a woman named Ruby. Her grandmother owned a diner in town and she promised to give Belle a "new to town" discount on the day's special if she swung by later and Belle made plans to. Belle also made conversation with other visitors as they looked around the shop. At about ten minutes after three o'clock, Emma returned to the shop with Henry and Baelfire.

"And we're back," said Emma.

Gold looked to Baelfire. "Any homework?"

Baelfire nodded. "I've got a worksheet in math."

"What kind of math?"

"Fractions."

Gold made a face. "Not fun at all."

"No," Baelfire returned the face, "not fun at all."

"What kind of fractions?" Belle asked, "Adding? Subtracting?"

"Dividing," Baelfire frowned, "We just learned how to divide fractions today."

"Do you understand it alright?" Gold asked.

Baelfire looked uncertain. "My math teacher didn't really explain it too well, and we didn't have time to ask questions after class," he said.

"She's not good at explaining anything, really," Henry added.

"No, not at all," Baelfire said, "but I think I might understand it."

"Do you think you'll need help?" Belle asked.

"Maybe with the first couple of problems," Baelfire said, "I just want to make sure that I'm doing it right."

"Fractions were always confusing for me when I was younger," Belle smiled, "but they're easy now. I'll help you, if you want."

"Would you?"

"I certainly would."

"Thank you, Belle!" Baelfire said, returning the smile.

"No problem!"

"Well," Emma said, placing a hand on Henry's back, "we'd better go, kiddo. I've got to go to work for a couple of hours, but Mary Margarate can help you with your homework."

"Can you bring home food?" Henry asked, looking up at his mother.

"Pizza?"

"Yeah!"

Emma smile. "Alright come on." She turned around and started towards the door, Henry following suit. She stopped about four feet from the door and turned. "Goodbye. It was nice to meet you Belle."

"Nice to meet you too," Belle said, "Goodbye. Have a lovely afternoon!"

"You too."

"Bye Baelfire!" Henry called.

"Bye Henry!" Baelfire said.

Emma and Henry left, leaving the three to themselves. It was quiet for a few minutes, and Baelfire began to sway back and forth on his feet, holding his arms out to his sides to balance him as he almost fell from the weight of his backpack.

"Whoah!" Belle exclaimed, holding her arms out as if to catch him, then placing them back at her sides, "are you alright?"

"Fine," Baelfire assured her, "just bored."

Gold looked at his son, his hands clasped behind his back. "You should probably get started on your homework, Bae."

Baelfire nodded. "Yeah. I should just go ahead and get it over with."

"Is it alright if I help him now?" Belle asked Gold.

"Yes. Go ahead," Gold said.

Belle walked around the counter, and Baelfire sat in front of it, his legs crossed. Belle sat in front of him, her legs crossed as he slid his backpack off of his shoulders and pushed it to his side. He unzipped it, taking out a dark blue binder, opening that and taking out a worksheet. He set the sheet on his closed binder and set it on his lap, grabbing a pencil from deep inside his backpack and readying it.

"Alright," Belle said, "so what's the first problem?"

"Nine over ten divided by one over three."

"Okay, so you have to flip the second fraction upside down," Belle said, watching as Baelfire wrote onto the worksheet. "Now, the second fraction is three over one."

"Okay," Baelfire said. "and now I divide from side to side?"

Belle shook her head. "No, no. Now, you multiply across. Nine times one is…"

"Nine."

"So now, nine will be the top number of the answer," Belle said.

Baelfire wrote an equal sign and then wrote a nine with a line under it. "And now I multiply ten and three and that will be the bottom number?"

"Exactly!" Belle said.

Baelfire wrote down some more. "So, now I have nine over three?"

"Yes. Do you have to reduce it?"

"Reduce?"

"Make the fraction smaller."

Baelfire shook his head. "She didn't teach us how to do that."

"You probably don't have to, then," Belle said, "but do you want me to teach you just so you'll be prepared for when she does teach you?"

"If you don't mind!"

"Not at all!" Belle said, and began to explain how to reduce fractions. Baelfire was a little confused at first, but he caught on quickly. They did a couple of other problems together as well, and they even reduced just to give Henry practice. By closing time, Baelfire had finished his worksheet and Belle checked over all of the problems, finding every single one correct and rewarding Baelfire with one of her bright smiles. Gold watched from behind, his lips twitching upwards at every smile Baelfire gave Belle.

"Good job, Baelfire!" Belle said, "and now you're prepared for reducing fractions, which I bet you'll be learning soon!"

"Knowing my teacher," Baelfire said, "she'll probably shove it on us within the next couple of days. Since I know it now, though, so I can help my classmates that are confused. Thank you so much for helping me, Belle."

"You're welcome. Anytime you need help you can just come ask me, okay?"

"Okay."

Gold cleared his throat. "It's closing time."

Belle stood up, and held a hand out to Baelfire to help him up. He accepted her hand and Belle pulled him up. "Thanks," he said.

Belle nodded to say "You're welcome."

"Thank you, again, Mr. Gold," Belle said, turning to him, "it's been a lovely day."

He only nodded.

"It was really nice to meet you, Belle," Baelfire said.

"And you, Baelfire," Belle said, "Now I've better go. I'll be back in the morning! Goodbye Mr Gold, Baelfire."

"Goodbye!" Baelfire called, waving to her as she left the room.


	2. II

**Author's Note: This chapter was written by both myself and a friend of mine, LoveFillsOurHearts, who also prompted this fanfiction! I hope you lot enjoy it!  
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><p>"Thank you, Ms. French," Gold said, grabbing the handle of the mug and pulling it towards him.<p>

Belle gave him one of her signature smiles, bright as the sun. "You're welcome, Mr. Gold." She reached a hand into the cloth grocery bag and pulled out a red and white striped peppermint cane wrapped in a clear plastic. "And a little bird told me that you like these with your coffee." She held it out to him and he took it.

"I didn't know that birds could talk," Gold said, his eyes shifting towards Baelfire.

Baelfire's lips tugged upwards. "Sounds like a biological impossibility."

Belle laughed and reached into her bag again, pulling out a Styrofoam take-out container. "And don't think that I forgot about you, Bae." She held it out to Baelfire, and he hurried to accept it.

Baelfire set the container on the counter and opened it, smiling. "Is this from Granny's?" he asked, taking the plastic fork that Belle held out to him and sticking it into his breakfast.

Belle nodded. "Ruby told me that you liked it," she said, "ham and cheese omelette with extra bacon?"

"Mmm," Baelfire hummed, and with a mouthful of omelette, he added, "my favourite. Absolutely delicious."

Gold raised his eyebrows at his son. "Bae."

Baelfire held a hand in front of his mouth as he swallowed. "Sorry."

"I also brought some chicken fingers from Granny's," Belle said, "you have access to a microwave at school, don't you?"

Baelfire nodded, swallowing another bite before responding. "Right before lunch, yeah."

"You can take them to school and warm them up before lunch, then," Belle said, "I know how awful school lunches are."

"The absolute worst!"

"That's what I thought when I was a kid, too." Belle said, laughing.

"Did you not get anything for yourself?" Gold asked, turning to Belle.

"Oh, I had French toast earlier," Belle told him, "I swear, they have the _best_ food at Granny's."

Baelfire nodded, swallowing. "The best food in town, for sure."

"The best food in the _world_," Belle said, picking up her own coffee mug and sipping from it.

Gold looked down at his mug. "How much sugar is in this?"

"Two sugars," Belle said, "Sugar cubes, that is. Another tip from the impossible bird."

"Ah." He unwrapped the peppermint cane and stirred his coffee with it, holding it to the side with his thumb as he brought it up to his lips for the first sip.

"Does it taste alright?" Belle asked.

"Fine," he said, "good."

"I'm glad," Belle said, looking relieved, "I was kind of worried that I had brought all of the wrong things, even with the advice I was given. You can never be too sure, can you?"

"Of course not." Gold set down the mug, before picking it back up and sipping from it again.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence, and Belle searched her mind for something to say, anything, but came up with nothing.

Baelfire was the one to break the silence. "You know, Dad," he said, "you are going to have to collect the rent soon."

"Yes," Gold said, "I will."

"And instead of closing the shop that day," Baelfire continued, "you could leave it open that day," he paused, as if waiting for permission to continue speaking, "I mean, you have someone to run the shop that day."

"Who? Belle?"

Belle opened her mouth to speak, but realized that she had no idea what to say. She felt that she had no part in this conversation anyways. She would love to run the shop for a full day; it would be great practice for when she has her own shop in the future, as she hoped to. She didn't want to say anything to convince Gold that she shouldn't do it, though. This would be a great opportunity. She couldn't ruin it for herself.

"She's only interned here for two weeks," Gold continued.

"Yeah, exactly," Baelfire continued, "She's interned here for two weeks. She knows enough about it to run it for a day. And if there is anything she doesn't know, you can just teach her beforehand."

Gold was silent for a moment. "There's still a week until I have to collect rent," he said, "I'll think on it."

Belle couldn't help the faint smile on her lips. He'd think on it, great. It wasn't a guarantee, but she had some hope. He turned towards her, and eyed her carefully that suggested that he was analyzing her abilities. She _seemed_ confident, more than confident even. But could he allow this mere intern, this Belle French, someone he hardly knew, to run his shop for a day? He argued with himself silently while she sipped her coffee and Bae enjoyed his breakfast.

**She seems to mean well enough.** _Yes but you hardly know the girl!_ **Excuse me, but last time I checked, interns are adults.** _And?_ **And adults are usually more than capable of handling many tasks.** _Listen to yourself! She could rob you blind while you're out collecting rent._ **But she won't. She's not here to make a profit, and even if she was, I do not take her as one who would make such a stupid choice. I am in charge whether she graduates or not. I believe she'd rather not lose her chance at her future profession. Besides, she said it herself, that she loves to work with antiques and such.** _What are you suggesting?_ **We-I mean ****_I _**** have no choice but to...** _No choice but to what?_ **Trust her! **

There he was, tossing the old "T" word around in his mind. But he already knew his answer. He knew before he had even begun this internal match of his. It felt like minutes had passed, since he had last spoke, when in fact it had been seconds. He finally found his voice after draining his mug of the delicious concoction.

"Miss. French, do you honestly believe you are ready to run the shop for a full day?"

She looked into his brown eyes and with a careful nod of her head she answered.

"Yes, if you believe I am, then-"

He cut her off curtly, his Scottish brogue filling up the room. "Oh no, dearie. At this point it isn't up to me whether you run this shop or not. I want _you _to be sure of yourself. _You _and you alone have to be confident in what you can and cannot do. If there is any shred of doubt within you, then what is the point? Doubt comes from fear of the unknown and shows a lack of belief in oneself. If _you _don't believe in yourself, that you can do what I ask for a full day, how can you do this or anything else everyday? But more importantly, if _you_ don't believe in yourself. Then who will? So with that being said, I pose this question to you once more. Belle French, do you honestly believe you are ready to run this shop for a full day?"

The room had gone quiet, and she looked at him with a gentle smirk and her blue eyes softened.

"No Mr. Gold, I don't believe I can."

Bae choked on a piece of toast, "What?Why?"

She walked toward Mr. Gold with purpose in her eyes and stopped until was standing in front of him.

"I _know _I can." Her smile reached her eyes and he felt almost obliged to smile back. Almost.

His hands rested on his cane "Very well, dearie. Welcome to Mr. Gold's Pawnbroker and Antiquities."

A look of astonishment was plastered all over Bae's young face. "Wow. Dad, that was deep!"

Gold flashed an irritated glance at Bae, "Hurry up and finish your breakfast! Henry will be here soon to walk with you to school."

"Aww, but I wanted Belle to walk with us." He frowned, flipping his shaggy black hair out of his eyes and then scarfed down the rest of his omelet and toast.

"Sorry Bae, but I'm going to work with Miss. French on all of the fineries and every little bit of information on every single piece of furniture, every vase, and every trinket that is within this shop and I need her for the full day."

Her face flushed pink and she sipped her coffee to hide the faint blush. "Thank you, Mr. Gold." She couldn't wait to go through the boxes of books on the floor to her left, just waiting for her to turn every page and to get lost within the confines of every novel.

"For what?" He turned to her with a puzzled look upon his face.

"For proving me wrong." She said and actually sounded...relieved?

"And what Miss. French, on earth could that be about?" His voice smooth but solid.

She smiled and turned to face him with new eyes but still the most brilliant shade of blue that Gold had ever looked into. "You are _not_ the man I thought you were," she placed a confident hand on his shoulder, "and I'm glad."

Never had Mr. Gold's heart fluttered in his chest before as it did in that moment.

He found that he quite enjoyed it.

After Bae had left for school with Henry, Belle and Gold started on how to catalog all of the antiques within stock and those that would be sold throughout the day. After he showed her how to negotiate prices with potential buyers, they began polishing and cleaning the antiques, starting with those in the glass case in the front of his shop. They sat on wooden chairs beside the other behind the counter, sometimes making small talk, and sometimes sitting in comfortable silence. Gold was polishing a tea kettle and Belle was dusting off an old typewriter. She looked at the man who had so graciously accepted her internship and had not once been rude or uncouth towards her. Cautious, yes, but she could see where anyone would be. His shop was his life's work and the equivalent of his life, and although he hadn't said the words, she knew they were still there between them. To anyone else the words would have seemed invisible, but to her, they were as clear as day. _I trust you. _He was trusting her with his life. And for some reason, Belle couldn't shake off the feeling that those invisible words meant something to her. She suddenly realized she had been staring when Gold spoke, causing her to lose her train of thought.

"See something you like, dearie?" Gold quipped as he set the tea kettle down and moved on to polishing a set of mood rings.

Belle was caught off guard and her gaze widened.

"No, I'm just-"

He practically cut her off, "Oh _please,_ you've been staring at that box of books for the last half hour. You're enamored with reading like Bae is with ice cream."

He thought she was having a gander at the books...Belle let out a breath she wasn't even aware she had been holding and chanced a small chuckle.

"Oh alright Mr. Gold, you've caught me," she played along "If you don't mind my asking, what are they for exactly? I mean do they serve any other purpose besides just everyday reading or are they yours?" She asked as she licked her lips nervously.

"They are a part of my collection here at the shop, but I also have my rather extensive collection at home," he paused, noticing her hypnotized look as her eyes flittled back and forth between he and the box of books. "You're more than welcome to them if you like." He granted her permission and she was soon picking up the box and placing it between them farther than he could finish his sentence.

"Would you terribly mind if-" she began pulling titles out of their confines.

"If you borrow a novel or two? No, of course not, dearie," he said, cutting her off before she even had a full sentence out. He side smirked as she watched in awe, like her world was forever changed.

"Thank you," she smiled at the impeccably dressed man, noticing how his black suit and long sleeve shirt caused his red suit vest and red tie to stand out among his silky clothing and realized that if he could afford several suits and ties, then he must have quite a book collection! At the thought of that, her heart sped up, as if someone she had fancied for quite a time had revealed his love to her. She loved books like she could love a person. Actually, now that she thought of it, she probably loved books _more_ than she could love a person. People came and went, but books would always be there. Perhaps she would find someone who she would love as equally as or maybe even more than books.

"Really," she said after a second, "thank you. Thank you so much."

"No problem, dearie," he said, turning back to the mood rings and continuing his work.

Belle looked through the titles. She hadn't heard of any of these, and that made her heart flutter. She thought that she new all of the stories out there, but apparently she had been proved wrong. There were far more stories out there than she had imagined. Far, far more, and she grinned. She would only pick two; he did say a couple. Which ones to pick, though?

As if he had read her thoughts, he said, "You have all the time in the world to pick out books, Ms French."

"Oh," she said, realizing that she was still at work, "I'm sorry, Mr Gold."

"If you could," Gold said, "there are a pair of glasses in a case over there, the ones with the broken lens. Could you dust them off? Gently, please." He pointed a finger in the direction. "I believe I accidently skipped it earlier."

"Yes, of course." Belle set the books back in their places, silently promising that she would come back to them. She picked up her dusting rag and made her way to the case. Cautiously taking the rusted glasses out of its case and gently began to dust in slow circles on the thin, copper lens frames. After a moment, she asked, "Do this have a story?" She paused her dusting, looking towards the man."

Gold looked up from the rings, placing them pack in their display and moving onto a small dagger. "Everything in this room has a story."

"Tell me it, then." Belle, satisfied with the dusting, placed the glasses back in its display and turned to Gold, her hands clasped in front of her. "Please, I'm curious."

A moment of silence, and then, "What kind of story do you think it has, dearie? A happy one? Sad? Perhaps, a mad one, even?"

Belle looked back at them. "They just look like a pair of old, broken glasses. My grandfather had several pairs of them."

"Take a guess," Gold said, "Just for the fun of it."

She took a second to answer. "Well," she said, "it's broken."

"Yes?"

"And that automatically makes me believe that it is sad."

"A madman came into my shop a couple of years ago," Gold said, setting the dagger down, "and told me that he had the saddest item in the world that carried with it the saddest story ever told.

"A man, he said, once had two best friends, a married couple, who he cared for more than anyone else in the world. They adventured together for years and years. The man, though, did not grow older, like his friends did. He stayed young as their faces lined and their hairs greyed. He had the face of a young man, and theirs were always changing with age, wrinkling and paling as the years flew by. Before he knew it, the husband died, leaving him and the wife to grieve together.

"They tried to move on by writing and reading stories together; ones that they knew the husband would love. Most of the stories were never finished. They didn't like endings. The wife's eyes were old, and her vision grew worse as several years passed. She got the glasses, and it was like her imagination went wild. She wrote nonstop for years, and the man tried to get her to eat, to sleep, but she refused. She had to finish a story for her husband. How could she finish a story when she didn't like endings?

"When a last she herself passed, the man was angry with grief. He kept her glasses and buried her. After the burial, he isolated himself atop the tallest building in the town and brought the longest story in history. It needed an ending. He put on the glasses and began to write. As he wrote and wrote and years passed by, he grew frustrated. He also couldn't end it. He didn't like endings. He took off the glasses, and threw them off the side of the building, giving up, but soon regretting it as he realized that it, besides the never-ending story, was the only keepsake that he had of his friends. He rushed to the ground, tripping down stairs and pushing anyone in his path out of the way, running as fast as his legs could carry him. Alas when he reached the bottom, the glasses were nowhere to be found. They had been stolen."

Belle felt sad herself, though she knew that the story couldn't be true. Still, she felt that she had to ask, "Who stole them?"

"According to the man," Gold said, "he did. Like I said, he was a madman."

"But, if the story isn't true–"

"Of course it isn't true." Gold's eyes were closed, as if just thinking of the story exasperated him.

"–then why did you buy the glasses off the madman?"

"Baelfire was here when the madman visited the shop. He liked the story and somehow convinced me to buy them off the man. Lucky for me, the man didn't ask much for them."

"Good thing," Belle said, "since it seems that nobody has bought them."

"And it's been about three years."

There was a moment of silence now. Belle glanced at the clock. The big hand pointed to the twelve while the little one pointed just passed the twelve.

"It's lunchtime," Belle said, "Should I go get us something to eat, then?"

A slight nod. "If you don't mind, yes."

"Not at all." Belle walked behind the counter and grabbed her purse, saying a quick goodbye to Mr Gold and leaving. She returned shortly after with lunch for the both of them, and they ate for a few minutes in silence, Belle picking at her chicken salad while a question ate away at her mind. After a few minutes, she thought she might as well ask it.

"If you don't mind my asking, Mr Gold," she said slowly, knowing that it was a touchy subject, "What happened to Bae's mother?"

Gold looked up at her, then back down at his plate, letting out a breath. "Why do you want to know?" It wasn't rude, the way he said it. It was an honest question. Why _would_ she want to know? It wasn't as if it affected her in anyway.

"Curiosity," she answered.

It took a moment for Gold to respond, trying to think of a way to sum up the woman in as little words as he could. "Milah was a very unsupportive and an unloving mother to Baelfire. She acted like she cared about him, of course, but she didn't."

"And you two divorced?" Belle asked.

"And we divorced," he confirmed, "She had custody of Bae for awhile. Baelfire was allowed to visit every once in awhile, but the more that I came to his school functions and activities, the less I saw _her_. She didn't support him, she didn't love him, so I fought for custody of him. Obviously, I won."

Belle didn't know what to say, so she said the obvious. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Gold said, "It wasn't your fault."

"So I can't be sorry?"

"You shouldn't be sorry for something that you didn't cause."

Silence.

Belle poked at her food more before deciding to actually eat it. She probably shouldn't have asked in the first place, but she couldn't help it. She was curious.

"What about you then?" Gold asked a few minutes later.

"Sorry?" Belle said, looking up.

Gold wasn't looking at her. "Have a … boyfriend? Husband? Partner? … Just making conversation."

"No," Belle said, taking another bite and swallowing before speaking, "I did have, but … it really didn't work out."

"May I ask why?" Gold asked, finally looking up at her, "I'm just curious."

"It's only fair," Belle said, "He wasn't…" She couldn't think of how to say it. She didn't want to say it, to even think about it.

"A gentleman?" Gold suggested.

"Something like that."

After they finished eating, they continued on with the day. A man and his daughter came in at one point of the day and bought an antique vase, and Gold let Belle do the negotiating. He stood back, his hands folded over the top of his cane, and watched. When Belle believe she had found the right price that they both could agree on, she looked back at Gold for approval. He shrugged. It was all up to her. She thought twice about it, but then decided to take it. The man and daughter happily paid an left with the vase.

"How did I do?" Belle asked Gold after the two had left.

"Good," he said, a slight smile tugging his lips. Belle smiled back.

Just after Baelfire came home, Gold, satisfied with how much he and Belle had gotten done that day, let her help Baelfire with his homework.

"What is it today, then?" She asked, smiling as she sat down next to Baelfire. They were in one of the backrooms today, sat in real chairs.

Baelfire tapped the tip of his pencil's eraser on his lower lip, his binder sat on his lap, a worksheet on top of it. "Math … again."

"Fractions?"

"Of course."

"What are you supposed to do?"

Baelfire sighed. "She just brushed over it a bit and didn't explain," he said, "we're supposed to turn mixed numbers into improper fractions. She said something about multiplying and adding, but I don't know what to do to what!"

"Well first," Belle pointed at the large number of the mixed number, "Take this and multiply it by the denominator."

"The what?"

Belle let out a laugh. "The bottom number. So that would be five times three."

"Which is fifteen."

"Right," Belle nodded, "now add fifteen to the numerator–"

"And that's the top number?" Baelfire asked, writing on the sheet.

"Yes."

"And that would be fifteen plus two which is seventeen."

"Right! Now make that number the numerator and keep the denominator."

Baelfire looked up at her, his brows furrowed. "Wait, what?"

"Look," she pointed back at the denominator of the mixed number, "the denominator, or the bottom number, will be the same for the answer. Then, the answer you got after multiplying and adding will be the numerator, the top number."

"Oh!" Baelfire said, completing the problem on the worksheet, "So the improper fraction would be seventeen over three?"

"Exactly!" Belle smiled.

Baelfire smiled back. "Thank you, Belle."

"You are very welcome, Baelfire," she said, genuinely happy that he now understood.

There were a few moments of silence as Baelfire began to work out the next few problems. Belle watched his work and made sure that he did it correctly. After the third problem, he held his pencil in both hands for a minute, gripping an end with each hand. Then, he placed it on top of the worksheet and looked up to Belle. She looked worried.

"Belle, can I ask you something?" he said, watching the worry leave her expression slightly.

"Yeah," she said, "of course you can."

He took a minute before speaking again, thinking of how to word it. "How do you know when somebody is your friend and they aren't just … pretending?"

She thought for a second, and then spoke slower than she meant to. "Well, if they are … loyal to you – you know, always there for you – and they like being around you…."

Baelfire thought about what she said. "Okay. Thank you."

"Are you okay?" Belle asked.

Baelfire gave her a smile, but it didn't seem to reach his eyes. "I'm fine," he nodded, "it's just, a friend of mine asked me that, and I told her that I'd ask someone with more life experience."

Belle nodded, and a moment passed. "You sure?"

Baelfire nodded. "Yeah," he said, "Now, come on. Let's make sure that I actually do all of these right."


	3. III

"Thank you for helping me with my homework again, Belle!"

Belle laughed. "You don't have to keep thanking me Baelfire," she said smiling as she stood up, "I enjoy helping you!"

Baelfire gave her a bright smile. "You know, my teachers think that I'm cheating at school now. I'm not though; I just have you. You help me actually understand what I should be learning at school."

"They think your cheat?" Belle asked with another laugh, a short one that stops right after it starts.

Baelfire was sliding his English binder into his backpack, which sat at his feet. "Yeah. Oh, and I'm sure my teacher will love this short story. Thank you for proof reading it!"

"I hope she does like it," Belle said, "You worked hard on it!"

"Maybe I'll actually have less red marks on it from her correcting it." Baelfire zipped up his backpack and looked up at Belle.

She was stood in front of him now. "I know, I could have missed a couple, but you didn't have too many mistakes!"

"I'm going to give it to Mary Margaret when I get to Henry's mom's house tonight. The sheriff, not Madame Mayor," he said. He was going to spend the night at Henry's house since it was a Friday, and he had been excited about it all day.

"And I'm sure she'll love it! Hopefully she'll point out any mistakes that I missed."

"Me too."

Baelfire began to stand, but stumbled forward. Belle held her arms out as quick as she could and caught him as he fell. She pushed him back slightly, her hands holding on to his shoulders as she got down on her knees. When Baelfire looked up, his eyes were wide, his brown irises darting around the room before coming to a halt on Belle's worried expression.

"Whoah," she said, her voice shakier than she thought it would be, "are you alright?"

His arms were held out behind Belle, frozen in the position he had planned to catch himself with, his finger spread out. He clenched them into fists, and brought them back to his side, but Belle didn't let go of his shoulders.

He nodded. "Er … yeah. I must have just tripped on my own feet."

"Are you sure, Bae?" Belle asked, her voice full of concern for the boy, "You didn't twist you're ankle earlier, did you? Does it hurt."

"It doesn't hurt," Baelfire said, "the fall just kind of scared me."

Belle finally let go of one of his shoulders, her left arm dropping to her side. "Positive?"

"Absolutely." He gave her a nod, a small smile which was assumedly for reassurance forming on his lips; another one which didn't seem to reach his eyes. "I'll be back in a minute."

"Alright, then." Belle gave him a small smile, one that she _knew_ didn't reach her eyes, but she tried to use it for reassurance as well. She had her concerns, but she didn't want to worry him with her thoughts.

Belle watched carefully as Baelfire left the room, his walk slower than usual. She walked out a few seconds later and met up with Gold in the front.

Her voice was low, as if she was afraid that Baelfire would hear from several rooms away. "Mr Gold."

"Ah, hello Ms French," he said, turning to her. He furrowed his brows at her concerned expression. "What's wrong?"

She took a moment before speaking, looking down in thought. "Have you noticed anything a bit … off about Baelfire lately?"

He thought for a second. "Not really," he said, "He's seemed a bit … clumsier than usual. He was always a bit clumsy, though."

Belle nodded her head softly. "Okay," she said, "I just … wanted to know if you thought so."

"Has something happened?" Concern filled his voice as well.

Belle sighed softly. "I don't know. He just fell while trying to stand up," she paused for a second, "It just seems kind of odd."

"I'll keep an eye on him," he said, "and I'll ask Sheriff Swan to do the same tonight."

"Yeah," Belle said, nodding again, "that's probably for the better."

A few seconds later, Baelfire walked into the room. "Are you two talking about me or something?"

Belle turns around, a smile on her face. "Yeah, we were. I was just telling your father about that brilliant short story you just finished!"

• • •

Belle approached the front door of the home she had been living at for a month and a half. Her father, Moe, had welcomed her to stay with him upon her arrival in Storybrooke. She and her father had had a somewhat difficult past, but they were actually starting to get along now, and she was quite pleased and hoped that their relationship would continue to progress.

She turned the key in the doorknob, rolling her eyes as she shook the doorknob and it did not open. It was always a fifty-fifty shot when unlocking a door. Either you succeed or you don't. It seemed to always be the latter for Belle. She gave it another go, actually succeeding this time, and opened the door, stepping in and pushing it closed behind her.

"Belle?" Her father called.

Belle jammed her keys into her purse as she called back from the small vestibule, "Yeah, I'm home!"

"Good! Great!"

At the sound of footsteps, she looked up. "Whoah," she said, her eyes widening slightly in surprise, "What's got you so excited?"

Her father was grinning widely, the widest Belle had seen in years. The around him seemed to hop around him excitedly. She had to admit, his smile was contagious. The corners of her own lips began to lift.

"I've got a surprise for you." His hands were clasped behind his back; his posture was straight, confident; confident that she would absolutely adore the surprise.

What kind of surprise could he have for her that would get him so excited?

"For me?" Belle asked, disbelieving, but trying not to make her disbelief audible. She set her purse on the table to her left. Her father had laid his coat across it, but she didn't understand why. There was a coat rack right next to the door.

"Yes," he said, "for you."

"Well, where is it?"

"It should be here any minu–"

Suddenly, Belle heard the door open behind her. The stench of cigarette smoke and alcohol filled her nose and her smile disappeared, her eyes changing from surprise to anger. She closed her eyes as she heard his voice. She didn't know what to think – didn't _want_ to think about who stood behind her. So she thought of one word – a word that she did not like to use and was sure that she had never said aloud. She was fine about saying it in the peace of her own thoughts, though. She was especially all right with using it in this scenario.  
><em>Fuck.<em>

"Bella," his voice came from behind her, "Great seeing you again, babe." His steps came slowly, getting closer to where Belle stood.

She took a moment to speak; preparing her voice, making sure that it wouldn't crack or shake like it so desperately wanted to. "Gaston."

The steps were closer, ending right behind her. She could feel the heat from the closeness of his body on her back.

It _disgusted_ her.

Two hands on her waist, one on each side, and two lips at her ear whisper, "I absolutely cannot wait to catch up, Bella."

"My name," Belle said, her voice shaking slightly this time, "is not Bella."

"I know your name, Bella," Gaston March said, his hands pressing a little harder into Belle's sides than she would have liked. She tried to take a step forward, but his hands were tight enough around her to hold her back. It was uncomfortable to say the least. She tried to stay calm, looking straightforward … right at her father.

"I phoned him a couple of days ago, invited him here." Despite Belle's frowning, her father kept his grin as he spoke. "Bought him the pane ticket and everything!"

Belle stared daggers at her father, but he didn't seem to mind. Perhaps, he just didn't care about her unhappiness. Besides, this was all about him. She knew it. He just wanted the money.

Finally, Gaston let go of her hips and stepped around her. "Well, then," he said, "I'll just make my self at home, then." He kicked off his boots, leaving them in the middle of the of the floor, and set off to the kitchen down the hall. Belle rolled her eyes as she heard the fridge door open. He was getting a beer. Of course.

"Why the hell would you do it?" Belle asked, more anger in her tone than she had expected. Her brows were furrowed in anger.

Her father furrowed her brows. "Why wouldn't I?"

Belle could feel hot, angry tears forming in her eyes, but she blinked them away. "I had a restraining order against him. You know that."

"And it's run out."

Belle's eyes widened. "_What?_"

"A month ago," her father specified, "it expired, or whatever you'd like to call it. Belle, you two will finally get back together!"

"Do you realize why I had a restraining order against him in the first place?" Now she was crying, tears running down her face every few moments, but her voice shake.

Her father waved a hand in dismissal. "Merely a misunderstanding."

With a disbelieving laugh, Belle wiped her wet cheeks. "A misunderstanding. Yeah, of course that's what it was."

"I'm glad you understand."

"No," Belle nearly shouted, "I don't! How could you do this to your own daughter?"

"I'm trying to do what's best for you, Belle!"

"_What?"_ Belle stepped closer to her father, her voice harsh, but quiet. "By setting me up with – with _him_?"

"He's good for you."

"You mean he's good for _you_." Belle fought the urge to shove her finger at her father's chest.

Her father looked angry, his cheeks reddening with each word Belle said. "Good for _me_?"

"You just want his money." Belle was shaking her head, her breathing speeding up. "And you're using me to get it."

"That's _absurd_."

"Look me in the eyes and tell me it's not true."

He couldn't do it.

Belle nodded. "Yeah," she said, "That's what I thought." She stormed down the hall to the staircase at the end. Not looking back as the door to the kitchen opened again and Gaston stepped out, beer bottle in hand.

"Bella," he called, "Where you goin', Babe?"

She didn't answer, only hurried up the stairs, running to her bedroom once she reached the top. She slammed the door shut behind her, locking it and leaning her back against it, sliding to the floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face in her knees, letting out a shaky breath.

It was an hour before she heard the banging at her door, making her jump up in bed, her heart beating rapidly in her chest. She hopped off of her bed and tip toed to the door, the banging not ceasing for a second. After about a minute, it stopped, and she pressed her ear against it. She could here _him_ breathing on the other side. She could smell the alcohol through the door and she gagged.

The banging started, causing her to scream as she jumped backwards, tripping and falling on her backside with a thud. She let out a groan as she sat up, rubbing the back of her head with one hand.

"Open up, Babe!" Gaston shouted through the door.

Belle was reluctant to do so. Surely she could just keep the door locked. He wouldn't kick the door down, would he?

She decided not to find out.

She hurried to the door, opening it a little bit and looking out. Gaston gave her an annoyed look and shoved the door open, causing her to fall backwards onto her backside once again.

Gaston grabbed her by the shoulders, his grip tight as he pulled her up and set her back on her feet, which were unsteady from being forced up.

"Listen, Bella," he took a step closer to her, too close to her. His hands back to her waist and his breath in her face, wreaking of alcohol. "We need to talk."

"Yes," Belle said, holding her breath during pauses in speech, "we do."

"You're going to be with me," he said, "and you're going to be happy about it."

"Why would I do that, then?" Belle asked, trying to step away, but being pulled back just like earlier.

"Because if you don't," he said, "I'll kill him."

Belle furrowed her brows. "Who?"

Gaston grinned. "The boy," he said, "the one from the shop. Gold's son."

Belle struggled to get back, feeling the tears rise once again. "No. _No_. You won't. You _won't."_

"I think that's up to you now, _babe_."

"Fine," Belle said, voice shaking, "Fine! I'll do it. I'll – I'll do it."

His grin widened. "Great, babe." He took her by the wrist, hard enough to leave a bruise, and pulled her to the guest bedroom, kicking Bella's bedroom door shut behind him. "Now, I am exhausted. I think it's time we both retired for the night, don't you?"


	4. IV

**Author's Note: This chapter was written by both myself and my good friend, LoveFillsOurHeart.  
><strong>

* * *

><p>"What are you doing here, Belle?" Baelfire asked, his hand sliding down the rusting railing as he made his way down the front steps of his school, Henry dashing down them in front of him.<p>

"I came to walk you to the shop, of course." Belle smiled up at him from the bottom of the steps, brushing a long strand of wavy brown hair from her eyes. "Both of you."

"Where's my mom?" Henry asked, he and Belle stepping away from the stairs, out of the way of the other children. Baelfire reached the bottom step and made his way towards them and they stood in a sort of triangle. "She usually walks with us," he continued.

"Emma got a call," Belle told him, "I think there was a break in at the ice cream shop, money taken from the register, so she called Regina to walk you home. She had an important meeting to attend to, though, so she called me." She smiled.

Henry adjusted the history textbook that he held in his arm, switching it to the other one. "Will I just hang out at the pawn shop, then?"

Belle nodded her head. "Until one of them comes to get you, yes."

"Okay." Henry turned to Baelfire. "We can discuss the project, then."

"Yeah," Baelfire said, nodding his head slightly. Belle took note of how pale he looked, and the path that his eyes were fixed on.

Belle turned and followed his gaze across the schoolyard. "Whoah," she said, "that is one interesting tree that you're staring at." She turned back to him, a teasing smile on her face, but it faltered when she saw that his gaze hadn't drifted. Her brows furrowed. "Really, Bae. Are you alright?"

Baelfire nodded, his eyes drifting from the distant tree to Belle's concerned expression. "Yeah, fine. Completely." Belle and Henry shared a quick, concerned look.

"Okay," Belle said, turning, "we'd better get going then." She began to walk down towards the sidewalk, motioning for the two boys to follow. "I was thinking we could pick up some dinner. Mr Gold has been talking about staying open a couple hours later on Fridays and Saturdays, and he's starting today. So I just thought that we should get some food and bring it back for all of us."

"Am I included in 'all of us'?" Henry asked.

Belle laughed and glanced at Henry, who kept up pace next to her. Baelfire was a few steps behind. "Of course you are included, don't be silly."

Henry laughed. "Cool. I'm glad I am. I'm starving!"

"Did you not eat at school?"

"I had some chicken nuggets, school chicken nuggets. They were gross."

Belle made a face. "It sounds gross. The school food in Australia was gross too."

"You lived in Australia?" Henry looked amazed.

"Where do you think the accent comes from?" Belle laughed.

"If you lived in Australia," Henry said, "why did you come to America? I'm sure Australia is a lot more interesting than here."

"My dad moved here after my nan got sick," she said, "she lived here because of her brother, who moved here for work. Mum moved too and I had to come down with her since I was only sixteen. I'm glad I did, though. If I hadn't, I'd have never interned in this wonderful town. The same old scenery get boring anyways, even in Australia."

"I'd give anything to visit Australia," Henry said, "It looks beautiful!"

"Oh, it is." Belle smiled. "Anyways, I was thinking pizza for tonight. Sound good?"

"Yeah!" Henry said.

Belle looked back at Henry, who was watching his shoes as he walked. "Sound good to you, Baelfire?"

He looked up, nodded, and then looked back at his shoes. Another shared look of concern.

"Um, anyways. Pepperoni?" Belle asked Henry.

He nodded. "With bacon?"

"Sure," Belle nodded. "Anything you want. Now, tell me about this project the two of you are working on. I could help, if you'd like."

"Maybe you could help us with ideas," Henry suggested, "We have to make a diorama of something from American history. Anything."

Belle thought for a moment, raising her index finger to her lower lip as she thought, and then pointing it forwards as she said, "What about the moon landing?"

"I like it." Henry nodded. "I was thinking about Abraham Lincoln's assassination too. We could make a stage in a shoebox and print out pictures of Lincoln, John Wilkes Booth, and some actors for the stage. Maybe even a crowd to be in the audience."

"I think that would look great," Belle said.

Henry looked back at Baelfire, who seemed to be zoned out, paying no attention to the conversation. "What do you think, Bae?"

Baelfire nodded, and muttered something along the lines of "Yeah, sounds great."

Yet another look of concern.

"Baelfire?" Belle said, her brows furrowing.

"Hm?"

"Are you _sure_ that your feeling okay?"

It took him a moment to respond. "Yeah, yeah. I'm fine. Fingers crossed. I swear. Fine."

"Okay…" Belle turned looked straight ahead, and she and Henry began chatting about the project again. She promised she would help them find materials to build the diorama with, and Henry pondered over some more ideas. Belle was certain that he was going to stick with the assassination since he always seemed to trail back to it.

Just when the pizzeria was in sight, Balefire sneezed.

Belle began to turn her head back to him. "Bless y–" She stopped in place.

Blood pooled under his nose, trailing to his upper lip and into his mouth, which hung open slightly. There was a spot of blood on his arm from where he had sneezed into it. Belle's eyes widened, and she turned to face him completely, Henry doing the same. She took a step closer to him, and arm held out to hold on to his shoulder.

"Baelfire, are you o–"

He looked down at his arm, back up, and then fell backwards, his body hitting the side walk with a thud.

"Oh my G–." Henry's voice broke, and he kneeled down beside Baelfire. "Baelfire?"

Belle's hand flew in her purse, retrieving her mobile before snatching it out again. She dropped to her knees as she dialed emergency services.

"Yes," she said, her voice flooded with panic from his unconscious state, tears forming in her eyes as she placed her free hand over Baelfire's chest, feeling for a pulse. "We need an ambulance. Right now." She activated her phone's speaker and put it on the ground so she could focus on Bae and the dispatch's voice. She placed an ear on Bae's chest and listened for his heartbeat, and it was going erratic. He was getting paler by the second and his eyes had just rolled into the back of his head. "Bae! No Bae, you have to keep your eyes open!" She cradled his head in her lap so be could get oxygen if needed until the ambulance arrived. She gave the phone to Henry and turned to look at him "Take this and you run to Gold's as _fast_ as you possibly can, tell him what's happened here and that we are on our way to the hospital!"

Henry nodded. "Right and I'll let you know when we get there!" She nodded her consent and he sped off on the sidewalk, past Granny's Diner, and towards Mr. Gold's shop.

When the ambulance arrived a minute later, they rushed to get Bae onto the stretcher, ripping his shirt to patch the SAT monitors on his chest and slapping an oxygen mask over his face. As she stepped inside the ambulance, Belle's mind began to race. She ran a hand through Bae's hair and something invisible tugged at her heart, it felt so real that chills slithered down her spine. She realized something in that moment and it hit her hard like a blow to the gut. It knocked the wind out of her. She loved this boy. Tears slipped down her cheeks when she took Baelfire's ice cold hand. "Oh Bae, I'll always be here for you, I promise."

Gold sat behind his counter and was polishing an old pair of shoes from the 1950's when his mind began to wander yet again. This had to have been the fifth time within the last three minutes that this occurred. He furrowed his brows in concentration, trying to focus on his work, but to no avail he had stopped and simply put the shoes on the counter and set his shoe polish and his cloth over to the side. He looked at the grandfather clock on the wall for the twentieth time so far. _It's been ten minutes. They should have been back by now. Where are they?_ He sighed frustratedly to himself. That wasn't all he had been thinking of though, and he couldn't stop the twitch of his lips that seemed to form a small smile. He had been thinking of _her._ Again. He had been thinking of Belle. She had been a quick learner and was an excellent intern. She always did what she needed to and more by going the extra mile by making sure that he and Baelfire had what they needed for the shop. She and Bae had become great friends, each of them benefitting from it by just enjoying the company. Gold supposed this was good for Bae, he needed a female figure in his life, one that he _knew_ would always be there for him. A female figure who was quite beautiful inside and out. _Wait, what?_ Alright, he definitely needed more sleep at night because he absolutely didn't need to start observing things about his intern! He was about to argue with his mind whenever he heard the bell ring above his door. In a rush, Henry ran towards him looking quite flushed and out of breath.

"Mr. Gold! Mr. Gold!" He gasped for air and the burning in his lungs, he bent over with his hands on his knees. Gold stood up abruptly causing himself to wobble in the process.

"What Henry?! What is it? Where's Ms. French and Bae?" He asked calmly, his eyes however were filled with worry.

"It's Baelfire! He's collapsed outside of the school and an ambulance was just arriving as I left. He's sick Mr. Gold, something is very wrong with him!"

Gold's brown eyes went wide. "What?! Is he alright Henry? Was he breathing? Where's Belle?" He walked towards the boy.

Henry raised his voice firmly to get Gold's attention. "Listen! I can answer your questions, but we have to get going to the hospital NOW!" Gold nodded his head and signalled for Henry to follow him out to his black Cadillac parallel parked in front of the shop.

Gold and Henry pulled up at the hospital, and they rushed as fast as they could with Gold's limp towards the front entrance. Belle was waiting for them inside and Henry handed her back her mobile. "Oh thank God you're here Mr. Gold! Dr. Whale has him in a CAT scan and we need to get to the third floor right away! The test will possibly tell us what's wrong with Baelfire!" Nervously, Gold nodded and they quickly followed Belle to the elevator which led them to the third floor. Whale was waiting for them in the CAT scan room with a grim look on his face as he turned to acknowledge them.

"Whale, what's wrong with my son?" Gold asked carefully, not wanting to raise his voice at him for not already finding the problem.

Whale spoke timidly, "Mr. Gold, legally I couldn't find out what's wrong without you being here. But now, we can move along with the CAT scan. Baelfire is still unconscious, but if we hurry, we can find out what's causing his ailment." Gold turned to look at Bae, lying on the moveable platform. What he saw before him sent terror running through his veins. Bae was deathly pale with dark bruise like circles around his eyes. If he looked closely, he could see the trails of blood at the corner of his nose and mouth. He looked dead. He gripped his cane so hard that his knuckles turned white. What had happened to his boy? He limped into the other room with Belle and Henry at his side and Whale began the process of the CAT scan. The doctor motioned for them to look on the computer screen that they had in front of them as Bae finished moving out of the machine. His right leg lit up like the fourth of July. Belle gasped and raised a hand to her mouth in shock.

"My God."

Gold turned to Whale, "What? What does this mean?"

Whale swallowed thickly. "It's cancer, Osteosarcoma. It's mostly common among young boys and young men, that leg has to be filled with tumors. There's no telling how long it's been like this! We'll need to amputate the leg."

Gold gasped in disbelief. "What!? Amputate?! You can't be serious Whale!"

"Mr. Gold this is _very_ serious and _extremely _critical. Time is of the essence, and if you want your boy to have a chance in _Hell_ of surviving, then I assure you that these next fourty eight hours are going to be vital to Baelfire."

Gold looked like he had lost something very precious to him and his eyes saddened greatly. "Do what you must for my son, Doctor." Whale nodded and proceeded to have Bae moved to the stretcher. Gold noticed his right leg was swollen and he felt his heart ache for the boy. _Baelfire._

"Hey,"

Belle put a comforting hand on his arm and took his hand in her own, giving it a gentle squeeze of assurance. "It's going to be alright. I'm here for both you and Baelfire no matter what." She gave him a small smile and let go of his hand. Gold seemed to visibly relax. Henry noticed this brief but meaningful moment and took a note of it as he smiled a small smile to himself. _Oh Baelfire is going to love this!_ Together, they all walked alongside Bae as he was being wheeled into emergency surgery.

"Listen son, I do not know if you can hear me or not but I am here and I will be here when you wake up. You're going to make it through this. I promise!" His voice thickened as he let go of his son's hand.

Henry was next to lean down to whisper to his friend, "Hey Bae, when you get out of here we can work on that diorama together and I need to tell you about my newest plan it's called 'Belle Gold', and it has a nice _ring_ to it don't you think so?" He stepped back, but continued to walk beside the rest of them.

"Bae, dear, it's Belle, but I wanted to tell you what a brave young man you are and I'm so proud of you! Your dad and I will be here when you wake up. I promise!"

Bae mumbled back, "Belle, you'd be a great mom -" his face contorted in a nauseated manner and he coughed violently, blood pouring from his nose, mouth, and spraying Belle and Gold. The three of them stepped back and watched as Baelfire was whisked into emergency surgery.

Belle sat in the pastel colored waiting room, her hands clasped in front of her, and her eyes darting as they watched Gold pace back and forth across the small waiting space. He had alternated between pacing and sitting nervously for the past four hours. Regina had long since came and got Henry, giving Gold her sincerest regards and sympathies and even giving Belle a soft smile. Henry asked Belle if she would text or call Regina for any updates on Baelfire's condition to him be aware and she assured him she would. Giving her a hug, Henry left with Regina, and only Belle and Gold remained. Now, as Gold continued to pace the floor with his limp, Belle felt like she needed to help in some way because, she somewhat felt as if this was her fault. She had noticed the signs that Bae's unhealthy and unbalanced body had been giving, and at last had reported it to Mr. Gold, however had said nothing more than that he was just more clumsy than usual. Nervously, but determined more than ever, she brushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and spoke in a concerned voice.

"Mr. Gold, would you like to sit down?"

"No Ms. French. I'm fine." He replied, not looking at her. At this rate, he was going to burn a hole through his shoes. It didn't help that he was being stubborn. Belle rolled her eyes at him and sighed when suddenly, an idea struck her.

"Mr. Gold?"

"What!? What is it Ms. French?" An irritated look flashed across his face as he turned to look at her. She noticed the blood splatter was still on his cheeks from Bae's earlier spell. It must have slipped his mind. She stood up carefully and sauntered over towards the confused man.

"You've still got blood on your face." She focused on his warm, brown eyes. He looked so lost.

He took her appearance in, she looked tired. Her hair fell in beautiful, almost elegant waves that shaped her face. Her baby blue dress matched perfectly with her blue eyes and her eye makeup and mascara only highlighted them more than ever. Perhaps it was because they were standing so close? His heartbeat increased when it seemed that she was going to place a hand on his chest when instead she reached forward and grabbed his silky red tie, pulling him towards the chair but not yet pushing him down. Her eyes now held a brave look in them.

"Now here is what's going to happen Mr. Gold. You are going to sit in this chair behind you and you are going to rest your leg because you have been pacing for almost five hours now, and Bae can't have you in pain as well! I don't want to hear another protest from you. Am I clear, Mr. Gold?" Gold had never been more surprised in all of his life! The only person who had ever talked to him like that was his own mother, any other person he would've argued and possibly had gotten angry with. But with this intern, this - Belle French, he felt like he was caught and that there was no where to run. She raised an eyebrow at him, challenging him to argue with her. In that moment, she was actually quite...lovely.

_There you go again spouting all of this sappy nonsense._

"Very well dearie." He agreed, his Scottish brogue washing over the room, sending a deliscious echo throughout it, and sat down as she released his tie, her lips twitched upward in a small smile, causing her to bite her lip playfully. She was trying to allow Gold to have room to not stress, considering his son's current situation. She sat down in the chair beside him and pulled out a water bottle and some napkins from her purse, the silence between them comfortable until Gold spoke.

"How did I not see it Ms. French? If I had only known or if we had found out sooner! How did I not see that Baelfire was so sick?" Belle looked at him with understanding, not disgust as he had thought she would.

"No don't do this. Don't blame yourself for this. You know, I know, and Baelfire knows that none of us saw it coming, and even if we did, we wouldn't have had a way to prevent it, let alone stop it." Her heart ached for them both, but she was not going to let him beat himself up over this.

"I thought we had a future, Bae has always been so optimistic you know? Even when his mother..." He trailed off, feeling sick at the mention of that lowly creature. How could someone walk away from their child? He felt a comforting hand on his shoulder and his anger suddenly faded, as if he had never knew the emotion at all.

Belle moved her hand from his shoulder to his freshly shaven cheek and began wiping the blood away from his cheeks with the wet napkin. Gold tensed slightly at the notion.

"It's alright, Mr. Gold you don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I'll understand." She gave him a sad smile and continued gently wiping away the blood. Belle was surprised as he straightened his tie, visibly relaxed, and began talking again.

"No, it's alright Ms. French. If you'll listen," he cleared his throat, "I'll gladly share my tale with you." Just as she finished cleaning his once blood splattered face, she nodded.

"Of course."

He spoke of his ex-wife, Milah with as much respect as possible for Bae, but always willing to tell the truth. She was a gambler, an alcoholic with a love for much younger men. She had never loved him, and even though he had tried to make it work with Bae, that all had changed when he had come home one day from work to a younger Baelfire, all alone, hungry, and scared. With not even a trace of a note, Milah was gone and out of Baelfire's life until one day, after they had divorced and she had gained custody of Bae, (illegally, probably by sleeping with the whole judicial system,) and then he won Bae back for a week, he had received a phone call from her requesting custody of him, which further ensured that he would keep custody over his son. She wasn't supposed to be contacting them. _Like Hell she will gain custody over him! She all but abandoned and neglected him, all for her own selfish motives!_ And the presiding judge in Storybrooke, ruled it so, that Robert Gold would have sole custody of Baelfire Gold.

"So that's why you're so protective of him?" Belle asked carefully.

"Yes, and I had hoped that he would be able to grow up and be what he wanted to be, a lawyer, and not have to worry or be burdened about anything like this ever again. I can only imagine how devastated he will be..." He placed his head in his hands.

"Mr. Gold, he still can! Your son is stronger than you realize, and much braver than I could ever even begin to dream about becoming! And would you like to know where he gets it from?" He turned to her with a confused look as she smiled. "You. Baelfire gets his strength and his bravery from his father, and I have no doubt about that." She winked.

"Bae is very intelligent and the fact that he knows what he wants out of life is amazing to me, as most don't know what they want until they are grown...he must get that from you." And a crinkle of amusement brightened his eyes considerably.

"Oh yes, you know he must, after all, since I was a little girl, I've always known what I've wanted, although at times, I can't help but feel that there is something missing." She placed her hands together.

"What might that be?" His voice low and questioning.

"Something more than what seems planned for me, something that grabs at my heart and never lets go of it. Something that makes me smile in the mornings because I know that it's there for me." She smiled so big that it met her eyes.

_Wow, she is absolutely...indescribable._ His face had a word written all over it: awestruck, his eyes were wide and his mouth hung agape, not in anger or disgust, but amazement, and suddenly Belle was worried that she had said something wrong or if she had offended him somehow.

"Um...Mr. Gold are you alright?"

He broke out of his reverie by nodding, "Yes I'm quite alright. Just thinking about how Baelfire would act if he were in your position."

"He'd go after what he'd desire and never let anything stand in the way of it! If it's what he loves after all, then I know he will be passionate about it!"

"He also loves to test me and has a knack for getting into trouble at times, but he means well." He smiled at the fondness for his son.

"Yes, I wonder where he gets that from?" She poked his arm in a teasing manner and couldn't resist the giggle that erupted from her. Her smile faded however, when Dr. Whale turned around the corner, and they both stood abruptly, waiting for him to meet with them.

"Mr. Gold?"

"Yes? How is Bae? Is he alright?" Belle could see his protective father side show now.

"Baelfire pulled through beautifully and miraculously. So far we can't find any trace that the tumor has spread, however, Mr. Gold, I wanted you to be aware that while Baelfire is alright for now, there may always come a time where he could relapse into his cancer again, and that Osteosarcoma will always be a part of him. It is in his bones, and it's not something that can be simply fixed by normal medicine. He will have to go monthly if not more than that, for chemotherapy treatments if his white blood cell count is up, for now though, it seems we've been able to keep it at bay. We have been able to provide a metal prosthetic leg for him, so while it will take some time getting used to, he will be able to walk again, albeit with a slight limp, but he will walk." He explained.

Gold nodded in understanding and gasped, "My boy will be able to walk? On his own?"

"On his own. If you'd like, in a minute, after I finish sending in my report, I can lead you both back there to see him." Dr. Whale assured and turned to leave, promising to return in a few minutes.

Gold let go of a breath he had not realized he was holding.

Belle sighed in relief, "Oh, thank God!" She grabbed his hand unexpectedly and he could have swore he saw tears in her eyes as she let go of his hand.

Mr. Gold realized then that she didn't just care for his son as a friend, she loved him as if he were her own, and as his heart warmed a little at the thought.

_Maybe it won't be so awful, just to give her a chance..._

He gave a soft smile as he turned to face her and held out his right hand towards her, "Robert..."

Her eyes lit up and he could feel the happiness radiating off of her in waves. She took his warm hand in her own and shook it genuinely. "Belle..."


End file.
